


Three Little Words

by hobert



Category: The OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3664050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobert/pseuds/hobert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes all it takes is three little words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Little Words

“I’m the father.”  
  
Of all the words to spill out of Seth Cohen’s mouth, those three were way up there with “Fuck me hard!” and “I’ve taken a vow of silence.”  
  
Okay, so that one wasn’t three words. Except in “Seth speak,” which was kind of like dog years, only....  
  
Being in the hospital, he expected more like “She’s got cancer” or “I’m dying” or possibly “Herpes is so easy to take care of these days.” Or a ten minute monologue about HMOs and the medical profession but Seth babble had been strangely quite these last few weeks. That didn’t seem right.  
  
A quiet Seth had taken up a large portion of Ryan’s attention lately.  
  
Although right now a big part of his brain mulled over the fact it was *Seth* holding Marissa’s hand. His girlfriend’s hand. The woman he said the “L” word to the night before senior year started and purported to feel the same with him. That just didn’t seem right, either.  
  
“...only seventeen...” Kirsten was arguing, but Ryan was still wrapping his head around a baby, a mini-Seth, apparently with his girlfriend, unless Seth had managed to emulate one of those weird Internet comics he keeps printing out and leaving around the poolhouse where the guys get pregnant all by themselves.  
  
Sandy mentioned the word “marriage” in the same reasonable tones he used on Ryan in jail. That only made Marissa sob harder, drawing Seth’s attention away from his parents to give her a soft kiss on the top of her head.  
  
All Marissa did was sit there, clutching at Seth’s hand, curled up into a ball in the hard plastic chairs that seemed to only reside in hospital waiting rooms. Her other hand slowly rubbed her belly, as if soothing the newly created life. A baby with all the grace and fluidity of the Cooper women matched with the wit and brains of the Cohens and spine of the Nichols.  
  
Seth, who was calmly stroking Marissa’s hand with his free one while his parents brought up all the problems a teenage pregnancy involved. Seth, who told everyone they would speak to the Coopers later that evening. Seth, his brother in all but blood, his best friend, yin to his yang, Player 2 to his Player 1.  
  
Seth, who apparently had way too much free time while Ryan worked and played soccer after school. Enough time to keep *his* girlfriend occupied and entertained. Enough times to screw things up. Enough times to screw. Screw enough times to....  
  
He had just come to the point yesterday where he realized the sexual portion of his relationship with Marissa had dissipated like so much smog. The rush of starting senior year, college dreams, sports, pulled too many ways. All those excuses of headaches and family troubles and stress, and she still had time to crawl into bed with *Seth* and bang away with his “brother.”  
  
And Seth, who once talked for fifteen minutes without a breath just to tell him about a bird he saw out his window had been strangely absent at breakfast and Crab Shack closings the last few weeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had lost at Pro Skating. Or walked into a comic book store.  
  
God, weeks. Both of them had been acting strange for weeks. *Weeks*. All those looks, those touches he’d pushed to the back of his mind, because it was *Seth,* his best friend, and *Marissa,* the girl of his dreams. Looking at him nervous and wary. Fucking scared. Terrified. Like he was a criminal. Like garbage. Looking at him like the stupid Chino thug everyone else in Newport spit on. The dumb homeless motherless charity case still living in the pool house.  
  
Seth’s mouth was opening as Ryan pushed his way forward, but a hard right closed it right back up. And before that slimy bastard’s head had snapped completely around a left into his gut dropped him to his knees.  
  
Ryan turned and stormed out, ignoring the shouting and retching and crying behind him.  
  


* * *

  
He spent less time at the house. Seth didn’t swim in the pool. The float chairs sat dry, stacked on the patio. Dinners, the rare times he wasn’t working, turned into strained, silent affairs. The Playstation disappeared from the den. Biking returned to being his primary mode of transportation. His truly best friend disappeared from his life. Ryan didn’t try very hard to stop it. Just let the hurt and anger eat him up.  
  
Each night he vowed he would let it go. No longer care. Standing at the edge of the yard, looking down on the Cooper house, watching Seth rush up and ring the bell. See Marissa or her mother open the door and invite the young man in. Wondering where his second chance at happiness went so wrong.  
  
Some nights, he’d torment himself by standing there for hours until Seth finally left. Picturing what they did, how they moaned, sweat soaked golden skin writhing in passion and lust. Hands clutching at bedsheets, cries of ecstasy, closeness he would never know again.  
  
Crawling into bed, too tired to sleep, he would torture himself with their love in his dreams. His nightmares. Wanting to be the one with them. Marissa...or Seth.  
  


* * *

  
All he caught was the last word, “adoption,” as his hand settle on the porch door leading into the kitchen. He could make out Kirsten’s exasperated voice, one he’d become familiar with these last few months. If not with Sandy and his job at a law firm and the blonde *coworker* he worked late with, then Seth and all the complications of teenaged parents.  
  
Never mind that those complications were a far cry from those he used to worry about in Chino. Things like starvation and a roof over your head and adequate medical care. Chino had dead people in the alleys and tiny bodies placed in dumpsters. Here in Newport it was words, just words, like “scandal” and “divorce” and “I’m surprised it wasn’t the gutter rat you adopted that got her knocked up.”  
  
That one he had heard at the country club, one of the many forgettable social functions on the Newport calendar. Kirsten hadn’t replied, just turned away and drifted to another table. But she usually gave Seth an earful when they got home. Enough that the expectant couple stopped attending. Ryan wished that he could do the same. But that meant staying home, near them.  
  
God, he’d rather be back in Chino.  
  
One night, late at night, he’d been in the next room when Kirsten used the *other* “A” word, “abortion,” for the first time. Seth practically growled and spat back, “We’d run away first.” She’d tried to press her point, as she usually did with Seth, but something shattered, loud and brittle. Something precious and expensive knocked away with an arm or thrown at a wall. “Never say that word again.” It didn’t sound like Seth at all.  
  
Kirsten had slipped into kitchen with him, shaking and nervous. He’d carefully put his arms around her, rocking her slowly, saying something inane like “it’s all right...it’s all right.” Three more words he could never really believe.  
  
They never mentioned the incident to Sandy, at least Ryan never thought so. Because Seth continued to live in the house and the one “A” word was never spoken aloud again.  
  


* * *

  
“He asked me to be his best man,” Sandy announce one morning driving him to school. Like he felt guilty, usurping Ryan’s place by his supposed brother’s side. Like Seth had the courage to actually look at the scum from Chino and string six words together to ask *him* to stand up beside his, what. Iago? Judas? Et tu, Brutus?  
  
Ryan shrugged, adding a grunt in case Sandy wasn’t looking over at him. Probably the safest thing, seeing how killing the groom on the altar would be in poor taste, especially in Newport. Or spewing out the vitriol speech he had refined to answer the “if any man here...” portion of the ceremony. Unless it was a Jewish ceremony, then Julie Cooper would probably go postal.  
  
It would probably be best if he didn’t attend. He *had* promised them no more fights.  
  
Except Kirsten had already had his blue suit pressed. Had been excited chatting on the phone with the caterers and florists. Thrust the card for the family’s gift into his hands with a pen. Asked if he wanted chicken or fish at the rehearsal dinner.  
  
She could be excited. And Sandy could be pleased. *Should* be. They were gaining their first grandchild, and a daughter. Even though they argued, a lot, Seth was still their son...only son. Their family was growing to fill the large house, more people to love and laugh and live with.  
  
While Ryan grew more alone.  
  
The poolhouse looked way too close for him to stay.  
  


* * *

  
He shouldn’t have come. Sandy and Kirsten didn’t need his support as much as they claimed. Marissa, fat and glowing and expecting, didn’t need the stress or the reminder. And Seth...didn’t need him at all.  
  
He glowered at the usher asking which side of the church, taking a seat in the very back on the mostly empty groom’s side. Seth walked out with Sandy, standing there at the front, calm and radiant. Their smiles couldn’t stretch any wider. The whole ceremony dragged on, sunk in molasses, but Seth beamed all the way through. Ryan remembered how it felt to be on the receiving end of that blinding smile. He could hear Marissa’s sniffles and ached as Seth wiped the tears with a finger.  
  
The vows. Ryan almost walked out during Seth’s “love and cherish,” “sickness and health.” Seth cried too, tenderly bending over to gently kiss his bride. Ryan couldn’t look, couldn’t watch, couldn’t see them -- Mister and Misses Cohen -- even as his mind taunted him with vision of *himself* up there in the tux, Seth and Sandy by his side, escorting Marissa back up the aisle.  
  
When had everything gone wrong? How had his dreams turned to this?  
  
He never showed up at the reception.  
  


* * *

  
Sandy rushed into the Crab Shack, grabbing his arm and telling him they needed to get to the hospital. Now. Luckily, his boss let him go.  
  
Marissa, in the middle of giving birth, had asked for him. Marissa, who lost too much blood. Marissa, who he apparently would still do anything for.  
  
By the time they reached the waiting room, Seth was standing next to Kirsten, looking lost and defeated. The Coopers huddled together in the corner, comforting each other. No one offered to take him to see Marissa.  
  
Seth looked up at him, looked at him for the first time in months, tears in his eyes, and whispered, “I have a son.” Followed much stronger by “His name is Colin.” Like he had any right to argue.  
  
Ryan never did find out what his ex-girlfriend, his sister-in-law in Seth’s happy family fantasy world wanted with him. To say she was sorry? To explain? To beg his forgiveness? Did it really even matter any more?  
  
Two days later, as they gathered after the funeral, Kirsten casually mentioned that adoption was the only sane solution left, and by the time she uttered the fateful “as long as you live in my house...” Seth slammed out the door.  
  
He didn’t come home that night.  
  
He didn’t show up at school, either.  
  
By the end of the week, he had cashed in all his trust fund bonds and cleaned out his college account and taken most of his belongs one afternoon when everyone was busy and away. He arrived at the hospital and took little Colin Cohen to wherever he was calling home.  
  
Sandy and Kirsten didn’t let Ryan out of their sight for weeks.  
  
God help him, he even enjoyed it.  
  


* * *

  
Thanksgiving was the first time Seth returned. No warning. Just on the Thursday. The front door bell rang moments after college football started and there Seth stood, baby carrier and diaper bag in hand. Sandy cooed, Kirsten looked sour but played with Colin for the afternoon and Rosa practically beamed.  
  
Ryan grew misty-eyed when Seth gently whispered, “this is your Uncle Ryan,” to the quiet bundle before carefully handing him over and showing him how to hold a young baby.  
  
It was painful to hand him back, and watch him...*them*...walk out the door.  
  
Afterwards, Ryan remembered very little of that day, Kirsten having to fill in most of the blanks.  
  
Seth lived in a small house where a woman came in once a week to clean and prepare, then freeze, a few meals. GED took care of high school and instead of Stanford or some other Ivy League school, Seth worked from home as a game designer, giving him the chance to watch little Colin himself.  
  
But Seth wouldn’t come clean about exactly where he lived or many more details of his life. And Ryan learned to accept that.  
  
Ryan had learned to accept a lot.  
  


* * *

  
Over the next summer, Sandy quit the law firm and went back to being a public defender, Ryan decided on a college close to home with an emphasis on architectural drawing, Kirsten worked as hard as ever and Seth got into the habit of stopping by for a day every two weeks or so, kid in tow.  
  
The most special visit coincided with one of Dawn’s rare appearances. Again, Ryan was moved with how soft and touching Seth was as he introduced his young son to “Mama Dawn.” To both Atwoods’ complete surprise, the proud father pushed Colin into Ryan’s arms and handed Dawn the keys to his car, musing that the threesome might want to take a drive along the beach. Giving Seth a chance to talk to his parents in private.  
  
By the time it was dark and they had returned, Kirsten hid in the bedroom, Sandy stood at the bar tight lipped and Seth waited outside on the drive for them. Ryan grabbed his arm as they switched in and out of the car, but words wouldn’t come.  
  
Seth nodded as if he understood anyway, hugged Ryan briefly but hard, then got into the car and drove off into the night.  
  


* * *

  
After Colin turned two, and called him “Unc-An” since his mouth couldn’t spit out all the syllables of “Un-cle Ry-an,” Seth would let him spend an entire weekend at the Cohen house. The little squirt took to swimming like a dolphin, and out of the blue asked if Ryan would teach him to play soccer.  
  
Rustling the ever-curly blonde hair that always stuck out every which way, Ryan proceeded to run around the back yard, kicking a smaller version of a soccer ball Kirsten had managed to find, and having quite a fun time with his nephew.  
  
Seth always stressed to Colin that Ryan was his brother, which made him Colin’s uncle with a nephew he had a responsibility to spoil. Ryan liked that idea quite a bit.  
  
Colin told him he had more fun than riding the pony Gammy Julie got him or fishing with Granpa Jimmy. Or ice cream with Gramps, as he called Sandy, or doing all the dress-up yucky stuff with Granma, as he called Kirsten.  
  
That night, after supper, and Ryan had the honor of laying outside and pointing out the stars, he realized he had truly forgiven Seth and Marissa. At some point, all the pain he had internalized and hidden had evaporated.  
  
He still felt sad Marissa had died, but more so for the loss Colin and Seth suffered every day. And how could he ever hate the bundle of joy that jumped into his arms and begged to play ‘occer in the yard?  
  
Whatever he had done, or had said, or whatever event had caused his two best friends in the world to betray him and create this special life didn’t matter any more.  
  
It could never be taken back. It could never change. It was as it is and ever will be.  
  
And playing “what if” and “if only” was destroying his new life as surely as Chino had destroyed the old. And he wanted to keep hold of this life. For as long as he could.  
  


* * *

  
When Colin was four, and Ryan worked between classes as an intern with the family company, Kirsten’s dad, Caleb, came over and slung an arm around his shoulders and complimented him on his reworked kitchen design for the Bassetts subdivision.  
  
Ryan didn’t think the old man even knew he worked for the company.  
  
He said “Nice design, son. Made the right choice I see.” And “call me Granddad, but not around work...too much,” when Ryan tried to thank him. Ended with “Colin sure is a cute kid, isn’t he? You seeing anyone?” and Ryan was sure either he was being Punk’d or had slipped into a ‘shroom flashback.  
  
Kirsten beamed that night at supper after preparing all his favorite foods, Sandy groused and wished Ryan had decided to become a lawyer, and for a second, the kid from Chino with his second chance didn’t think it could ever be better than this.  
  
Just the empty chair next to Kirsten. And the empty hole in his life.  
  


* * *

  
When Colin was five, and Ryan used his degree full time at the company, Kirsten called him into her office late one Wednesday afternoon. He expected it to be about the model home he continually promised not to burn down. It wasn’t. Sandy was there, pacing, and he knew for a fact the public defender had a court case that day.  
  
They calmly told him Seth had called, and that Colin was at the hospital, and it wasn’t an emergency or a crisis, but there was something they needed to know and could they come down as soon as possible?  
  
He distractedly noted the babble gene came from the Nichols side, and God how he missed it.  
  
Seth was distraught, tear tracks on his cheeks and hunched on those same damn plastic chairs that brought the memory of Colin’s birth right back to the front of Ryan’s brain.  
  
Colin had something called “Aplastic Anemia” and needed a bone marrow transplant. The doctor went on to inform them that blood relatives had a much better chance of being a match, but that there was a small chance that anyone could be a compatible donor. So Seth basically asked...begged...to test everyone.  
  
Marissa’s parents quickly agreed, and followed a nurse to a room with a technician. Kirsten hugged Seth as Sandy offered a shoulder squeeze to Ryan. “Who knows, maybe this is the reason you came into our lives...” his father figure started to say.  
  
“Someone needs to call Dawn. There’s a good chance she’s a match,” Seth muttered from Kirsten’s shoulder.  
  
Time seemed to freeze.  
  
Kirsten pulled away and Sandy’s hand tightened on Ryan’s shoulder. “What?” Ryan asked, first to find his voice.  
  
Something in Seth’s eyes hardened. “You’re a blood relative, too, Ryan,” he enunciated slowly and then motioned to himself and his parents. “But we aren’t.”  
  
Kirsten gasped. That didn’t make any kind of sense. “What?” he asked again, at a loss for words. Surely Seth wasn’t suggesting.... “I never had sex with Marissa.” He knew that for a fact. Never went all the way with any girl. Ever.  
  
Seth looked sad, and shook his head. His eyes brightened and he blinked quickly. The ceiling must be fascinating. “Trey went to the wrong house first.”  
  
“Trey?” Ryan parroted. Trey, his older brother, who showed up one night after being released on parole begging for any money Ryan could get his hands on right then. Trey, who snuck into the pool house at two in the morning, right next door from the Coopers and Marissa. Trey with his blond hair and the Atwood gene for soccer and Ryan’s blood and almost six years ago with no word....  
  
Trey who apparently was Colin’s father. Trey, who had sex with his girlfriend. Trey, who Marissa didn’t even know, and would never sleep with a complete stranger. Which meant Trey....  
  
“I’ll kill him!” came spouting out of his mouth as he lunged for the door and the hospital entrance, creating the mental pictures that pounded through his head. Arms slipped around him from behind, pinioning his swinging fists against his body. A soft male voice in his ear, but all he could see was red and Seth and Trey and Marissa sobbing as his brother *pushed*.... He couldn’t believe...Trey.... “I’m gonna kill him,” he again cried.  
  
“You won’t have to,” Seth whispered softly, standing somehow in front of him. A hand reached up and brushed against his wet cheeks, before falling against Seth’s side. “He came back the next night. I had to.... He’s d-dead. I can show you where....” Then he choked and felt silent.  
  
Kirsten sobbed. Sandy moaned. Or maybe he himself made the wailing sound.  
  
Everything collapsed. His legs couldn’t hold him up any more and he fell to the floor, dragging Sandy down with him. Kirsten’s hand cupped her mouth as she watched her flesh and blood leave, frightened eyes following the stranger her son had become.  
  


* * *

  
Once Ryan tested positive as a donor, they went straight into surgery. A few days later the doctor gave Colin a clean bill of health and Seth walked into the police station and turned himself in. Hand written confession and all.  
  
Paperwork, drawn up by Sandy and signed by Seth, sat on Ryan’s bed in the pool house, giving him custody and guardianship of Colin.  
  
Sandy plea-bargained the DA down to voluntary manslaughter. After listening to a handful of passionate speeches for leniency, the judge gave Seth three years and a fine. Not the best that could have happened but thankfully far from the worst.  
  
Ryan left Trey’s body to rot in an unmarked grave.  
  


* * *

  
A clear plastic partition stood between them and Ryan’s voice had a tinny quality through the phone as he asked “Why?” It had taken him almost a year to work himself up to that question. Marissa had become the pink elephant neither of them wanted to talk about.  
  
“I was safe,” a haunted, hollow Seth replied. Either it was the harsh florescent light or the blue of the jumpsuit, but his brother of choice looked like a ghost. Thin, pale, dead. “She couldn’t bear being around a man after....”  
  
“You’re a man,” Ryan pointed out. While babble Seth seemed to have gone for good, confusing Seth seemed to be hanging around. And none of the Seths deserved to be behind plastic and steel and barbed wire. Especially daddy Seth who Colin cried for each night.  
  
Nervous Seth’s eyes looked anywhere but at him, and Ryan flashed back to Seth handing him a Playstation controller all those years ago. “She figured out I was gay.”  
  
For the briefest of moments, flouncy gay Seth bounced through Ryan’s mind in a pink tutu and feather boa. But that quickly turned into secret Seth, who Ryan never realized spent so much time by his side. Secrets that had cost him two brothers and a girlfriend. And almost a child.   
  
“How come...how did she figure it out?”  
  
Seth sighed. Resigned Seth? “She said even though my mouth spent too much time talking about Summer, my eyes spent too much time elsewhere. Like your ass.”  
  
His face grew warm. “When did you know you were...” Ryan heard himself ask.  
  
There was a twitch of Seth’s upper lip. “I met this really hot guy who actually talked to me. Laughed at my jokes and let me hang around. God, I had the biggest crush.” His smile was blinding.  
  
Ryan’s chest grew tight. All it took to snatch the best guy in Newport was to talk to him and let him hang around? *He* did that. More than that. Why didn’t Seth want *him*?  
  
Hell, he’s the one getting into fights to save Seth’s butt. He’s the one who let Seth drag him down to Mexico; he’s the one who....  
  
Moved into the pool house where Seth slept over on the couch and they changed clothes after swimming and hung out on the bed reading comic books in their underwear and....  
  
Oh. Oooooh.  
  
No. No, it couldn’t be. Seth was just grateful he had a real friend. Went from lonely introvert to semi-cool guy invited to parties for the first time. Only child to pity inducing sibling that was less than the housekeeper’s kid, who wasn’t a real threat at all. Someone who sucked worse than he did.   
  
“Then I fell in love with him.”  
  
The phones clicked off, time was up. A guard came to escort Seth back to his cell.  
  
Ryan couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but watch him leave. Desperately wished he had told him about Colin, about first grade. Wanted to say he was sorry, he’ll take care of everything, *was* taking care of everything and everyone. Wanted to beg Seth to be careful, good luck, don’t drop anything.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Whatever nightmare Ryan had experienced before Sandy took him in, Seth had lived through longer. So many questions he was afraid to ask. So many things he was even more afraid to say. Too much time before he could visit again and would Seth be even more of a zombie by that time?  
  
Would there be anything left before he could hold Seth, touch Seth, murmur “I love you,” in his ear.  
  
Three little words. He prayed those three little words could make everything better, everything all right again.   
  


* * *

  
“Colin misses you.”  
  
Seth looked away.  
  
“I miss you.”  
  
Seth started to cry.  
  
“I love you, too,” Ryan barely whispered.  
  
Seth got up and walked away.  
  
Ryan’s fingers on his free hand curled against the plastic they had been pressed against. He sat there with the phone to his ear, listening to the sound of silence on the other side until the guard came up behind him.  
  
That had been one of the better visits.  
  


* * *

  
One year, nine months, twenty-two days and three hours. Prison crowding and some random glitch and an overly worked parole board had somehow made magic and over a year disappeared from Seth’s sentence.  
  
Seth...didn’t look like Seth.  
  
Sandy and Kirsten had gone into the prison with a hanging bag and toiletries, leaving Ryan and Colin outside at the far end of the parking lot. You couldn’t see the fences or the guards from here. Ryan thought that was important.  
  
They came back out almost an hour later, a small hunched figure between them, guided carefully along the concrete walk and through the lines of parked cars.  
  
“Daddy!” Colin cried, wiggling to be let down.  
  
God, Seth could barely lift his son.  
  
It hurt Ryan to help, to realize Seth hadn’t laid eyes on his son for so long. So much had happened, so much had changed. He had changed. Seth definitely had changed. He couldn’t help but smile at Seth’s nervous glance.  
  
“I can’t...” Seth started, his arms shaking, desperate to hold his son but just being physically unable to. Tears of frustration dotted his cheeks.  
  
“No, Daddy,” Colin protested.  
  
Ryan’s chest hurt. “Here, sport,” he said, lifting the kid up and around Seth until he was situated on his shoulders. “Hold on....”  
  
“Not the hair,” Seth added, rearranging not-so-little hands so they cupped his skull. “Thanks,” he added to Ryan, looking anywhere but at him. He glanced at his parents, but quickly looked away from their indulgent smiles.  
  
“So, so fragile,” Ryan muttered under his breath, using a hand on Seth’s arm to gently guide him down the parking lot. “Come on, let’s get you home.”  
  
“Home...,” Seth echoed wistfully.   
  
Ryan wondered what that word evoked in the other man’s head. He would always picture the poolhouse. His nephew didn’t care yet. “I told you Colin moved into your room.” Seth just nodded. “He liked being around all the stuff you left,” Ryan tried to explain.  
  
Seth just ambled forward another step. Colin kicked his legs and muttered “giddy up!”  
  
“I’m in the room across the hall. Used to be a guestroom.” God, had *he* picked up the babble gene somewhere along the way? What was he trying to say? Seth kept on walking. “It’s got a queen size bed in there now.” No, Seth wasn’t getting it. “Your stuff from West Covina is there too.”  
  
Seth stopped, and Ryan thought he heard a sniffle. It was easy to slip his hand into Seth’s free one hanging between them, lacing his fingers with oh-so-thin ones. He started walking slowly again, pulling Seth along.   
  
In front of them, Sandy and Kirsten walked side by side, Sandy’s arm over her shoulder and her hand slipped into his far back pocket.  
  
“You know, that legal guardianship kinda dissolved when I turned eighteen. And even though you tell everyone I’m your brother, I’m not really a Cohen....” A rough hand squeeze made him look over.  
  
Seth had a fiery look in his eyes. “Don’t even think that. I didn’t go through hell for anyone short of the other half of my soul. You’re a Cohen. You’re *my* Cohen. Get it?”  
  
“Got it,” Ryan nodded, wanting to back away from the ferocity. But this was Seth, *his* Cohen, and damned if he couldn’t stand the heat. He wanted that heat. Waited for that heat.  
  
“Good,” Colin agreed, laughing and patting his daddy on the head.  
  
“You’re moving in with me.” It really wasn’t as much a non sequiter as other ears would think.  
  
Seth nodded. “Okay.”  
  
“Tonight.” Well, after he pried Kirsten and Sandy off their son.  
  
“Cool,” Seth replied. It was hard to tell, with Colin’s leg in the way and Seth’s head hanging low, but that almost looked like the start of a smile. Or Seth’s skull was expanding.  
  
“The clerk’s office opens at nine and I have all the registration forms for our domestic partnership ready for your signature. In triplicate. And the addendum to make Colin my stepson.”  
  
Seth’s smile bloomed. “I can’t believe you got that out in one breath! Are you sure Dad hasn’t talked you over to the Light Side?”  
  
“I am immune from Sith mind control tricks, smart ass,” Ryan choked out. He had to quickly blink his eyes, unable to believe this really was happening.  
  
Colin started making a buzzing sound while waving around an imaginary lightsaber.  
  
They cut around the end of a parking row. Ryan waved ahead to Sandy and Kirsten. “We’re parked over there, the blue minivan.”  
  
The hand in his tightened as Seth stopped, pulling hard on his arm. “Oh my God, I’m having a heart attack. I’m in shock. I can’t see. Hell froze over and George is running for a third term. What kind of weed was my Dad smoking when he decided to buy a...?”  
  
“It’s *my* van,” Ryan interrupted sheepishly. He silently thanked anyone listening for the welcome return of the babble. “I have this big ass family I have to haul around town to everything. Kind of wasn’t expecting that.”  
  
“Oh,” was all the response Seth could muster. Looking lost and afraid and oh, so kissable.  
  
Ryan lifted Colin off Seth’s shoulders and set him on the ground. “Go help Grandma with your car seat, sport.” A little slap on a low riding rear got the child moving. Now he could use both hands.  
  
“Seth, I *do* love you,” Ryan breathed, leaning in for a soft kiss on those lips he’s been staring at all year. Sweet. Hesitant. He pulled back and waited.  
  
“Love you too,” Seth whispered, before coming after *his* mouth. Oh, God, was that tongue?  
  
Three little words. He liked these *much* better.


End file.
